


Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus

by AlizarinDreams



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A fair bit of swearing, Alternate Universe - Hocus Pocus Fusion, Badass Mila Babicheva, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Minor Mila Babicheva/Sara Crispino, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Russian Skate Fam, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, ages have been tweaked, brief mention of off-screen violence, kind of a HS AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28323522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlizarinDreams/pseuds/AlizarinDreams
Summary: Viktor and his family have just moved to Salem, MA and Viktor is not about it. The whole town is obsessed with some local witch folklore and the cute boy in his history class will barely give him the time of day.Or, the Hocus Pocus AU that we clearly needed.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Mila Babicheva & Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Viktor Nikiforov's birthday!
> 
> (my apologies to the town of Salem)

Viktor wasn’t sure how he felt about Salem, Massachusetts, but he was pretty sure he didn’t love it. It was small. And the weather was off. And it was so, _so_ American. 

Viktor was used to new cities, used to making new friends quickly, and moving on almost as quickly. The only people he was truly close to were his two cousins, Yakov (their uncle, a renowned figure skating coach), and one or two of the other young ice skaters against whom he’d been competing for years.

At some point a few years ago Yakov had decided that simply coaching a small herd of Russian skaters (many of whom were at the Olympic level) wasn’t enough of a challenge. So he’d taken some sort of not-quite-quitting-but-basically-quitting leave from their rink in St Petersburg, packed up his bags and his three favorite (most codependent) skaters, and started traveling around to cities where people would pay him lots of money to guest coach at their rinks to drum up business/boost their reputations/whatever.

And that was what had brought them here in late August, just enough time to almost finish unpacking before school started. Well, except instead of lots of money it was a favor to Lilia, Yakov’s ex-wife, who was friends with friends of the new rink owners. The rink had been closed for about four years and the old owner had passed away in the spring. After all the paperwork was done, the rink had officially changed hands and reopened for business.

Or something. Viktor didn’t ask for details because Viktor feared approximately two things in this life: public failure and Lilia Baranovskaya.

They’d been in Salem for almost two months now and Viktor still hadn’t found much to like about the city. (To be fair, it was following up Milan, and Bangkok before that, so it had a lot to live up to.)

“You’re staring again.” Yuri, Viktor’s cousin, was tiny, blond, and constantly angry. Viktor was pretty sure that was just a symptom of being fifteen, though he was sure that he himself had never been so unpleasant. He was frequently called Yurio for reasons that had been forgotten, but it continued because he got so mad about it.

Viktor elbowed his cousin roughly, but did look away from the figure gliding across the ice. “He’s just so _pretty_.” He, in this instance, being Yuuri Katsuki, a local boy who, jump issues aside, was pure poetry on the ice. He was also _ridiculously_ beautiful. He was almost as beautiful as he was shy. Or just allergic to Viktor. Hard to say.

“I know,” Yurio sighed. Whether or not Yurio truly knew this in his soul was debatable, but he certainly knew Viktor felt that way. He’d heard it often enough.

“Have you seen his eyes?”

“I’m ignoring you now.” Yurio pulled his phone out of his bag and opened some colorful game app or another. He kicked his feet up on the bleacher in front of him and got comfy while they both waited for Mila, the middle cousin, to finish up in the locker room so they could go home. Being the wards of Yakov Feltsman, renowned figure skating coach, involved spending a lot of time at ice rinks not necessarily spent skating.

“Cruel,” Viktor muttered, looking away from Yurio his cousin and back to Yuuri, Cutest Boy Alive, Actual Angel too Good to Walk this Earth.

“You know it sounds really creepy when you do that right?” Yurio asked, not able to properly distract himself with video games.

Oh. He’d been talking out loud again. 

“You guys ready to go? Or should we just leave you here to drown in a puddle of your own drool, Viktor?” Mila had emerged. She was slender, red haired, and capable of holding Yurio up over her head when he annoyed her. (She could lift Viktor, too, but that was usually more them fooling about doing pair skate routines and trying to give Yakov a heart attack. Death spirals were fun, ok?)

“I’m not drooling,” Viktor muttered defensively as Yuuri flubbed a salchow. He grabbed his bag and followed the other two out to the parking lot.

“Have you tried talking to him yet?” Mila asked reasonably.

“Noooo,” Viktor whined. Miserable. Destitute. Helpless.

(It wasn’t quite true. He’d tried.

Once.

It hadn’t gone well.)

Yurio snorted, tapping furiously - he did most things furiously - at his game and not looking up.

“What would I even say to him?”

“Hi, I’m Viktor, I’m a huge dweeb and kind of a creep, but at least I’m pretty. Wanna go out with me?” Mila suggested.

Viktor winced. At least she’d said he was pretty. 

“Offer to teach him to suck less at jumps?” Yurio suggested, tossing his bag ahead of him into the back seat of their shared Honda, still not looking up.

Viktor gasped in offense. “He doesn’t suck. He’s just… very inconsistent.”

“Pretty sure there’s a quicker way of saying that, cuz.” Mila said as she climbed into the driver’s seat. (Viktor was older by a year, and had his license, but was _not_ allowed to drive.)

“I hate when you two gang up on me,” he sulked without rancor.

Yurio kicked the back of his seat. “Look at it this way – we’re only here for a year, tops. So even if he horribly rejects you, you might not have to deal with seeing him much afterward.”

“That’s a _terrible_ upside! And besides, Yakov always says that.”

Yurio shrugged, kicked his seat again, and said nothing else.

* * *

In truth, there were plenty of potential conversation starters between Viktor and Yuuri, Cutest Boy Alive, Actual Angel too Good to Walk this Earth. Apart from ice skating they shared three classes at the local high school. Ice skating was definitely out - while Viktor could tell what was wrong with Yuuri’s jumps, he wasn’t good at explaining in words what came so naturally to him.

The last time he’d tried to help someone he’d - in reference to serious athletic things like muscles and speed and torque and... other things! He really wasn’t good at words - touched their butt. He should’ve asked first, he realized even as he was doing it, and definitely afterward when he lay on the ice clutching his groin which had been harshly kicked. (Mila had just laughed at him when she’d skated over to check on him.) He really didn’t want a repeat of that experience.

That left classes. Viktor could pretend to need tutoring, maybe. He’d seen that work in movies. They were in English together, except Viktor had read _Grapes of Wrath_ for school last year so he didn’t think he could do a decent job of faking needing help. Maybe AP bio? But how was he supposed to flirt while talking about mitosis and meiosis? Reproduction was decidedly unsexy.

Which left History. He could actually use help there. American schools tended to focus on American history, with some attention to Western Europe, and pretty much nothing left for the rest of the world. He’d learned that already during the year spent melting in New Orleans, trying to eat his literal body weight in beignets, and learning that contrary to what people in Asia or the Middle East might say, absolutely nothing had happened between 500 CE and 1100 CE. 

History it was! Viktor was resolved to do it that very day. He’d walk right up to Yuuri, do his best puppy eyes, and tell Yuuri he needed help and he’d noticed Yuuri’s answers in class were always so good and how was he so smart and so pretty and so (sometimes) good at ice skating.

Ok, maybe not all that.

“Mr. Nikiforov, are you listening?” His attention was ripped away from visions of Yuuri’s breathtaking Ina Bauers and back to Mr. Celestino and his slightly alarming eyebrows.

“I - yes, of course.”

“So what can you tell the class about the Sanderson sisters?”

Sanderson? Sanderson? The name didn’t ring any bells. “They… helped found the town?” That was probably it. People loved talking about town founders. 

Several people in the class giggled. Oh. Guess not. He shrugged and tried to hide his discomfort. Unlike Yurio, he only liked being the center of attention when it was _good_ attention. Applause for his skating or cheekbones, something like that.

“Would anyone like to catch Mr. Nikiforov up?”

A girl in the front row shot her hand up and launched into a spiel about how the Sanderson sisters were actually a trio of evil witches who killed and ate children. Viktor, who had been raised on tales of Baba Yaga, was a little intrigued and a little dismissive. Baba Yaga, he was sure, was far more terrifying and more powerful. That is, if any of these stories were anything like true.

The girl - Emily? - ended on a note about how their spirits haunted around on Halloween night or something about a candle that could only be lit by a black cat or something. Viktor was having trouble paying attention. Yuuri had turned in his seat to listen and he had the _best_ profile.

“Child murder not enough to catch your attention?” Mr. Celestino asked, leaning ominously over him.

Caught again. Ahh well, he knew the role he was supposed to play. “I’ve heard worse. Besides, it’s a made-up story about a made-up holiday centered around selling candy and ludicrous costumes.” Viktor loved costumes. Viktor loved Halloween. Viktor was a _liar_. “Just a bunch of hocus pocus,” he finished with a smirk.

“It’s not,” piped up a quiet voice.

The class turned to stare at Yuuri. When called on, his answers were typically good and thorough, but he rarely spoke up of his own volition. 

“It’s not made up to be about candy or costumes,” Yuuri elaborated, shifting uncomfortably under the class’ stares. And then he was off, talking about All Hallow’s Eve and “sahwin” and god, Viktor should be paying attention, but Yuuri was staring _right at him_ and his eyes were _so pretty_ and they were _sparkling_ as he spoke.

Now the class was staring at Viktor, like this was some pedantic tennis match. Was Viktor supposed to rebut that? He hadn’t heard anything beyond that first sentence. He shrugged, “I’m not going to argue with such a cute face.” He winked and smiled that broad and meaningless smile that people were so good at projecting on to.

Yuuri’s face went beet red and the class _oooh_ ed appreciatively at the drama. 

The bell rang and Viktor had never _felt_ the phrase “saved by the bell” before. He wanted to crumple into a puddle on the ground and not move. His life was over. Maybe Yakov was done with the rink here already and they could move somewhere - anywhere - else and Viktor would never have to step foot in this classroom again.

At least History was his final class of the day. He just had to make it to the parking lot so Mila and Yurio could drag him home and make fun of him until he felt human again.

He’d be fine, honest. (He was lying again. There was no recovering from this.)

He shook himself out of his stupor and shoved his notebook into his bag and headed out to the parking lot. Because he was denied even the privilege of keys to the car he would have to drape himself dramatically over the hood until Mila showed up. He got that no one wanted him to drive, but he should at least be allowed keys to _unlock the car_. It had only been _one_ fence!

Yuuri was stowing his bag in the trunk of his green Toyota a few spaces down and fuck it, Viktor had promised himself he’d talk to him today.

He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and changed course. “Hi,” he said, stopping awkwardly by the hood of the car.

Yuuri’s eyebrows shot up under his bangs and his face went pink again. “Hi.”

“I’m Viktor,” Viktor said, awkwardly. “Er, Nikiforov.”

“I know,” Yuuri sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “You’re one of Coach Feltsman’s nephews.”

“Coach Fe- Oh, yes, Yakov. He’s my uncle.”

“Yes.”

“Right.” Viktor had asked people out before. Successfully! “Um, do you want my number?”

Yuuri cocked his head to the side. “For what?”

Viktor choked and was saved from embarrassing himself further with an attempt at recovery by his cousin’s hyena cackle. The only thing better than being 110% rejected by your crush was having it happen in front of your cousins who were horrible bullies.

“Oh my - Vitya, that was -” Yurio could barely walk upright for laughing so hard. He pushed Viktor along in front of him - helpful, because Viktor had forgotten how to use his limbs and would probably have stood there in abject mortification until the end of time otherwise. “And it’s not even my birthday! C’mon, Mila, we’ve got a funeral to plan! Viktor’s been _slain_!” Viktor let himself be pushed along and into the backseat of the car where he promptly flopped over immobile. 

The car doors slammed and the motor started. “What did Other Yuuri _say_ to him?” Mila asked from the front seat.

“Asked him what he would want his number for,” Yurio choked out.

“Oh, Vitya, malysh, no,” Mila at least managed to sound sympathetic around her giggles, deftly steering the car in a loop to get to the lot’s exit.

Viktor let out a high-pitched whine. 

“Oh, they are definitely still staring at us. Him, and oh, whatsisname, the sunshine one who goes to the rink with him a lot.”

“Phichit,” Viktor grumbled into the upholstery. “Phichit Chulanont. He’s in my math class.” ‘The sunshine one’ was apt, Viktor had never seen Phichit not cheerful, even in math! It was impressive. Viktor followed Phichit’s Instagram partially because he did genuinely like him and his selfies (masterpieces!) and partially because he reliably posted frequent Yuuri content.

“At least you finally got the balls to talk to him,” Yurio, done cackling, had twisted around in the front seat and to look with a bit of concern at his catatonic cousin.

Viktor whined again. “I told myself I would. He told me off about the history of Halloween in class and I thought ‘well, at least he knows who I am’.”

“He already knew who you were.”

Viktor sat bolt right up. “What!”

“He’s in my ballet class, I told you.”

Viktor did vaguely remember that. Or, he remembered being distracted by thoughts of Yuuri in tights. “You didn’t say he _knew_ me.”

“That might be a stretch. He found out we’re related and he made a face. I don’t think he likes you very much.”

“You couldn’t have told me this before?!”

Yurio shrugged, “You didn’t ask.”

“Yura,” Mila chided, swatting at his leg. “Cheer up, Vitya. Chris gets in today, remember? And this weekend we’re gonna find some ridiculous American Halloween parties and you’ll forget all about this by Monday.”

Viktor nodded, comforted by the reminder that his best friend was coming to visit. He hadn’t seen Chris in _months_. Chris’ parents were divorcing, again, and competing to buy his love with extravagant gestures like flights to Massachusetts, USA.

“ _For what_?” Yurio muttered, laughing, to himself, ruining Viktor’s mood again.

* * *

Chris’ flight did indeed get in that night. They were back in the car not long after getting out of it to make the 45 minute drive to Logan airport.

“Oh, chéri, no. It can’t have been that bad.”

Viktor stayed face down in the throw pillow. Mila and Yurio filled in Chris, who was absently patting his shoulder. Chris - Christophe Giacometti - was a Swiss skater, lover of cats and innuendos, a connoisseur of butts, and a good friend.

“It _was_ ,” Yurio cackled, gleeful.

“Well, I’m sure he’s not that cute.”

“Mm, hold up, lemme pull up Instagram…”

“Oh, _that_ Yuuri. Well, Viktor, you always did have good taste.” (Chris was obligated to say this, as they had gotten bored and made out that one time.)

Viktor pulled himself out of the pillow, “You know him?”

Chris laughed, “Viktor, sweetie, he was with us for a bit in Juniors.”

Viktor frowned, “I don’t remember there being any American skaters our age.”

“He skated for Japan. He lived there until a couple years ago.”

Oh. “How – how do I not remember him?”

Chris shrugged, “Don’t ask me why you’re unobservant. He ended up quitting when his home rink shut down, but we kept in touch, well, more his Thai friend and I. Yuuri is awful at social media.”

“Oh,” Viktor deflated back into the pillows.

“Well, first impressions aren’t worth much, I’m sure you can-”

“Second,” Viktor corrected miserably.

“I’m not counting the classroom incident ten minutes before as a separate encounter.”

“It’s still the second meeting. I tried talking to him before.”

“You didn’t tell us that!” Mila actually sounded offended.

“Well?” Chris prodded, “what happened?”

“He ran away.”

“... what?”

“He ran away from me.”

“What did you _say_ to him?”

“ ‘Hi, I’m Viktor, I’m new here.’ “

“Maybe you’re cursed,” Yurio said in a slightly awestruck and jealous voice.

“Maybe it was the nudity,” Viktor mumbled.

“Why were you naked?” Yurio squawked, as he tended to do when sex things came up. Fifteen was such a terrible age.

“He surprised me in the locker room. What was I supposed to do, not say hi just because he bumped into me as I got out of the showers?”

Mila cackled, “Only you, Vitya.”

“I can’t believe I used to think you were cool before Yakov adopted us all,” Yurio sighed. “I mean,” he corrected quickly, “not, like, cool, but, like, not a barely functioning moron.”

Viktor grunted an acknowledgment.

“So, Yuri, what we’re doing right now is called ‘being supportive’,” Chris said patronizingly, “We want to say _nice_ things.”

“ _Oh_.” Yurio clapped Viktor’s back hard enough to hurt. “Congrats on hiding what a dipshit you are from people who don’t have to deal with you all the time.”

Viktor wriggled an arm out from underneath his body and reached out to aggressively ruffle Yurio’s hair. “You’re so sweet.”

“Look at it this way,” Chris said, in a too cheery voice, “there are plenty of cute boys out there. And we’ll find you one tomorrow night. And Saturday night as well.”

Viktor made a muffled noise of assent into the pillow. His friend and horrible cousins were right. He’d get through this. 

* * *

It did not go as planned. The day had started well enough. They had off from classes for the holiday (Salem went _hard_ ) so he’d gotten in a nice and exhausting session at the rink (skating practice did not care about holidays of any creed or caliber). He chipped away at a good chunk of his math homework in the afternoon. It would have gone faster if Phichit hadn’t distracted him with memes when he’d texted him about the problem set, but Viktor wasn’t complaining.

And then it was time to get ready for the evening party crawl. Sometimes getting ready for parties was more fun than the event itself and Viktor really, really hoped this would not be the case that evening.

Not that getting ready wasn’t fun. Mila, inspired by her own history class local lore lecture and Viktor’s shame, decided they should all be witches. Yurio was persuaded by large quantities of black eyeliner and glaring being in character. (Also Viktor’s shame.) Viktor was persuaded because he looked _hot as fuck_ in the dress.

He’d bought it for some other costume, but with a few quick adjustments it would do for this as well. Black wasn’t usually his go-to color (for non-workout clothing), but the deep magenta lining revealed by the hip-high slit was satisfying like landing a clean quad. If Viktor thought about what Yuuri might think about the open back and amount of leg (in opaque dance tights, for modesty) on display, well, no one called him on it. They were planning on doing a tour of the downtown parties, ending at Phichit’s, where Yuuri was sure to be. By then, Viktor would be buzzed on alcohol and attention and would either pull off a successful flirtation with Yuuri or otherwise enjoy himself, goddamnit.

Mila nodded at him in satisfaction when she’d finished with his elaborate braids. He grinned, pleased by her approval. “C’mon, let’s go to the living room. The light’s good for photos.”

“You read my mind.”

Chris came in to survey them after Yurio joined them – looking sullen as ever in ripped jeans, a shirt with an unreadable metal band logo, and a leather jacket. Chris put more glitter on Viktor and Mila, who let him, but not Yurio, who swatted his hand away. He tweaked the straps that formed a pentacle on the front of Viktor’s dress, fluffed Mila’s hair, and produced a black velvet choker from _somewhere_ for Yurio. It really did tie the outfit together.

“Viktor, Mila, love the slinky dresses, classic for a reason, corresponding without matching, great job. Yurio, love the leather and the anger. You are the scariest member of One Direction and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” (Yurio scoffed loudly but didn’t otherwise protest, too pleased by the choker.) “Ok, darlings, you’re as perfect as I can make you. You’re going to break so many hearts, I’m so proud.” He wiped away an imaginary tear.

They dropped off Chris at Phichit’s and then they parked in town to begin their tour. The first couple were busts. And the third they got thrown out of due to Yurio’s strong (and _loud_ ) musical opinions. Only mildly buzzed, they trooped along a street that had looked so promising just an hour or two ago.

“What's that? An inn?” Mila asked pointing at a building set back a little ways from the road. The sign read “Yu-tupia Katsuki” and proclaimed it to be a B&B. The bay windows on the first floor showed what looked like the dim (and occasionally strobing) light and animated crowds of a party.

The three cousins exchanged glances and shrugged, worth a shot. The door fell open easily at Mila’s touch and they hesitantly stepped in.

“Welcome to _Boo_ -topia,” a voice putting on a spooky affect stopped midsentence. “Uh, hey, Yuri. Viktor.”

It was Yuuri. Of course it was Yuuri. He was looking unfairly good in a pressed white shirt and black slacks.

Mila stepped forward, “Hi, I’m Mila. And you must be Yuuri - I remember you from the parking lot!”

Viktor stared at the ceiling and wanted to die. Yurio choked into his fist.

“Er, hi, Mila. Yes, I’ve seen you at the rink.”

“Yeah, we do basically live there.”

“The practice pays off. Your quads are all so smooth!” Yuuri enthused. God, it was worse when he was earnest. “The flip especially-” He stopped, flushed, and stared at Viktor. Mila and Yurio also stared at Viktor. Viktor stared at Yuuri.

They were all excellent skaters. But Yurio, still competing in Juniors, was forbidden from doing quads. Mila had mastered the loop and the lutz, but the flip… the flip was Viktor’s.

Yuuri watched him skate.

Yuuri _liked_ watching him skate.

Hope felt like the sun rising in Viktor’s chest.

“Er, I love your costumes. You’re witches, right?” Yuuri asked, turning back to Mila.

“Oh, yeah,” she smoothed down the front of her dress, “it was a bit last minute. We talked about the Sanderson sisters in class and I guess it inspired us.”

“Everyone here gets pretty into them - teachers included.”

“Oh yeah! I wish we’d talked about them more. I wanna see how witch lore here compares to back home.”

“If you’ve got questions, I might be able to help, or at least point you in the right direction. My parents used to run the museum.”

"The museum?” asked Yurio, who had been doing a steadily worsening job of pretending to not be interested.

“There used to be a town museum on the Sanderson sisters, but, well, too much weird stuff kept happening. It closed a few years ago.”

“That’s too bad,” Mila 

“Weird stuff?” Yurio sounded blatantly interested at this point.

Yuuri’s gaze flicked from Mila to Viktor, “Yeah, you know, weird noises, stuff being moved when no one was around. We had trouble keeping staff, so Mari and I had to help out a lot.” His gaze flicked between the three of them, lingering the longest on Viktor. “The keys are still around here, if you wanna check it out.” He’s still staring at Viktor and his voice has dropped to a register that Viktor really, really wants to call flirtatious.

“Yeah, we’re in,” Viktor replied. When had his voice gotten so husky? 

“Great,” Yuuri smiled, then looked away, blushing. “Technically I’m supposed to be here for another five minutes, but I’ll go get changed. Um, I’ll probably go to my friend Phichit’s party after - you all are welcome to come with.” He drained a cup that had been surreptitiously stashed behind a display of dried flowers, grinned at them, and took off.

“Well,” Mila said when Yuuri had disappeared around the corner upstairs. “he doesn’t seem repulsed by you. You might have a shot after all, Vitenka!”

“Pfft, don’t get his hopes up.”

Viktor shrugged and tried to play it cool.

Yuuri returned, slightly breathless in shimmery pants and a loose jacket, a scant few seconds before a young woman with bleached hair and piercings appeared. She raised an eyebrow, “You off then? New friends?” She managed to fit an incredible about of skepticism and judgment into the words.

“ _Mari_ , you don’t have to - guys, this is my sister Mari. Mari, this is Yurio, Mila, and Viktor - they skate at the rink.”

Mari ran an unimpressed eye over the lot of them, raising an eyebrow especially at Viktor, who probably had ‘ _I want to marry your baby brother and have his babies’_ written on his forehead. “Have fun, kids.”

“ _Mari_ ,” Yuuri groaned, now fairly pushing the trio out the door. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

* * *

The museum was located just beyond the outskirts of town and had definitely seen better days. Ivy covered most of the siding and some of the windows were missing glass. _It doesn’t look very impressive_ , Viktor couldn’t help but think as they stared at it. Mila had pulled into the drive, but not yet killed the engine. The bright illumination of the headlights didn’t do the building any favors.

Yurio was the first one out of the car, and Viktor followed soon after. He swept his gaze along the surrounding woods, looking for any obvious signs of spooky malevolence. 

“Well, Nikiforov? Think I can make a believer out of you?” Yuuri was staring at him over his shoulder. How could one person be so _pretty_? Whatever his costume was, he hadn’t taken off the jacket yet, it involved slicking back his hair and swapping out his thick framed glasses for contacts. He didn’t look _better_ , per se, just different. It drew attention to his eyes (luminous) and cheekbones (perfect).

“God, I hope so,” Viktor muttered.

Yuuri cocked his head at him in a silent question but mercifully said nothing.

With a last glance at the trees, Viktor hurried after Yuuri to the front door where the other two were waiting. The lock was sticky with disuse and it took a couple tries for Yuuri to get it open. When it did it was with a horrible screech that had Mila casting a guilty glance behind them. Not that there was anyone or -thing around.

The inside wasn’t much better than the outside. Cobwebs _everywhere_. Yuuri flicked a switch as they walked in, and various dusty light fixtures struggled to life. They scattered to poke around the main room, Yuuri lingering by the door, more interested in their reactions than the museum.

“Spellbook given to her by the devil - ooh! That’s cool,” Yurio murmured to himself, reading a plaque to himself, “bound in _human skin_ oh wow, that… Huh. I mean, whatever.” He shrugged, tossed his hair, and moved on to the next case.

“Are these - are these real human bones?” Mila asked from a distant corner.

“Ah, no, those are just replicas.” Yuuri answered, moving closer, “There were real ones originally. But the museum founders thought it was a little … distasteful.”

Viktor, left by the register, glanced around, trying to look unimpressed, but also keep his hands and sleeves well away from any and all spiderwebs. A thick pillar candle near a display of dusty postcards caught his eye. “ _Made from the fat of a hanged man_ ,” he read, “they really liked making things out of people, huh. _If lit_ blah blah _Halloween_ blah blah _full moon_ blah blah _raise the dead_?”

“Do it.”

Viktor jerked; he hadn’t noticed Yurio walking over to him as he’d read the placard. “Yura -”

“C’mon, do it.” Yurio handed him a lighter, because of course he had a lighter handy. 

Viktor knew, on some levels, that it wasn’t a great idea. And while Viktor wasn’t exactly known for his impulse control, he did think things through. (“That just makes it worse!” Yakov would yell.)

“Really, guys?” Yuuri asked from across the room. 

“Thought you wanted to make a believer out of me?” Viktor asked, voice low, flicking the lighter on.

Yuuri sighed, but didn’t protest further as Viktor’s hand moved towards the wick. “Whatever. It’s only supposed to work if a virgin lights it anyway.”

Viktor shrugged and the wick caught.

“Oh.” Viktor had a moment to appreciate how aptly named the black flame candle was. The lightless black fire set the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, something about it just _not right._ Mila and Yuuri came over to stare at it in muted awe.

And then the first light bulb burst. The rest followed soon after. They shrieked as bits of glass rained down. “What the -”

“What did you do, Viktor?” Yurio asked, throwing a sharp punch at his bicep.

“Ow! Please, like you weren’t encouraging me.”

“Hush, both of you,” Mila hissed.

There were noises from outside. Footsteps. Voices. Women cackling.

Mila and Yurio dove behind the counter and Viktor found himself pulled behind a bookshelf by Yuuri, who knelt above him, peering between a gap in the shelves.

“It’s probably just-” 

Yuuri clapped a hand over his mouth, shaking his head slowly.

Viktor wanted to take a moment to appreciate having Yuuri this close to him, but he’d landed in a shape his spine did not appreciate. He started to shift upright, but a warning glare from Yuuri kept him pinned in place.

The voices were closer and Viktor could make out words. Something about “back” and “young and beautiful forever.”

This was, he had to admit, a very elaborate prank. He would happily and lengthily admit to Yuuri, Mr. Celestino, and the rest of his history class that he’d been so, so wrong about Halloween and the town myth if only they’d stop this right now.

Viktor heard the door open and the sound of heeled shoes on the wooden floorboards. Yuuri inhaled sharply and his grip on Viktor’s arm turned painful. 

“What happened to our home?” A woman’s voice asked in a tone of genuine distress.

“We have been dead three hundred years. It seems the locals have made a… spectacle of us.” 

And then there was something about spells and eternal youth and, of course, their mission to “drain the lives out of all the children of Salem.”

Sure. Totally. Viktor could only listen so closely. Most of his brain was just whispering ”whatthefuckwhatthefuck” on repeat. Yuuri, with his face inches from Viktor’s own, looked as bewildered and panicked as Viktor felt. 

Then, as had been basically bound to happen in a room so filled with dust, Viktor had to sneeze.

He did so, _loudly_. In a panic he flung himself away from Yuuri so at least only the one of them would be caught.

Three women, a redhead, a blonde, and a brunette – so helpful for distinctions - looked down at him as he lay sprawled out messily on the floor. They did not look impressed.

“Hello,” the redheaded one said, “And… who might you be?” Her tone was mocking.

“Oh, he’s a pretty one,” breathed the blond in the back.

“Hello. Er,” Viktor got to his feet and tossed his hair. “Yes, hello, it is I,” He pitched his voice lower for drama and took measured steps away from the shelf that Yuuri was still crouched behind. “I am the one who awakened you. You are the Sanderson sisters, are you not?” he hoped they couldn’t tell how badly he was shaking. He also hoped they would say no, or laugh and pull off their wigs, or in some way indicate that this was _not actually happening_.

“We are,” spoke the redhead, who seemed to be in charge. She drew out the words, savoring them. “So kind of you to bring us back.”

“I’m not kind. I am … I am the evil witch Carabosse.” (He made a mental note to send a thank you note to an old rinkmate who’d convinced Viktor to do a program to the Lilac Fairy.) “I’ve awakened you because,” he fumbled for what Georgi used to frantically whisper to himself during practice, “I want to cast an eternal curse. Yes, one that can only be broken by, er, true love’s kiss.”

(That was usually when Georgi would start cackling about how there was no such thing as true love.

He didn’t take break ups well.)

“Really?” the redhead crooned, looking delighted. Viktor couldn’t tell if she was buying it or just really enjoying fucking with him.

“Wait,” the dark haired one spoke for the first time, “There are more. I smell…” she trailed off and drifted over to the counter behind which Mila and Yurio were crouched. She slammed her hands onto the counter and Mila and Yurio popped up with startled yelps.

“Viktor, run!” Mila shouted, bolting out from behind the counter, Yurio following close behind. The blonde snatched at the hood of Yurio’s jacket as he passed. The brunette, meanwhile, shot lightning (what the fuck) at Mila. It immobilized her against the wall, face contorted in pain and anger.

Viktor was closer to the one holding Mila to the wall with the lightning that came out of her hands, a perfectly normal thing for lightning to do. He grabbed a coffee table book ( _100 Beautiful and Haunted Homes in New England)_ off the nearby display and slammed it into the woman’s back. 

She stumbled and her concentration slipped. The lightning went wild for a second, hitting the witch holding Yurio, before disappearing, leaving only the smell of ozone behind. Out of his periphery he could see Mila straightening up and looking very angry.

Yurio used the distraction to wiggle free of the woman’s grasp and then drove his foot backward into her diaphragm.

A frequently talked about side effect of ice skating is that it gives you booty _for dayz_. A less discussed one is this: skaters kick like mules. Yurio’s sneaker connected solidly with the woman’s abdomen and she was pushed back several feet and knocked prone. 

“Get to the car, Yura,” Mila said, who looked a little worse for wear, but was standing upright. She passed him the keys as he went and swung a low kick at the kneecap of the one who’d shot lighting at her. The witch crumpled instantly, swearing and gripping her leg.

“Do you have something to tie her up with?” Mila turned to Viktor, who was staring, dumbfounded, clutching his kitschy photography book. “Your belt, Vitya!”

“Right, right” he dropped the book and fumbled to comply. “Er, sorry,” he muttered to the woman (she’d shot lightning! Out of her hands!) as he moved her hands from clutching her leg to behind her back so he could wrap his belt around her wrists. “You did start it.”

That done, he stood upright. Yurio was nowhere in sight, but Beautiful Yuuri was directly in front of him, caught up in a game of tug-of-war with the redheaded witch over the book Yurio had examined earlier - the one bound in human skin.

Viktor staggered forward to get Yuuri free of the woman’s grip. His eyes caught on a pyramid of novelty candles in solid glass jars. That’d do. He grabbed one and pitched it. It crashed into her collarbone with a satisfying _thunk_.

She yelped and dropped the book. Yuuri stumbled backwards without the counterbalance, also dropping the book.

“Vitya, duck!”

He did so. Just in time as the blond witch - not the lightning one - went flying awkwardly over his head to land on her sister, effectively incapacitating them both.

He would appreciate his cousin’s strength and badassery later. For now he moved forward to Yuuri, who was on his knees picking up that gross book.

“What’re you doing?” Viktor hissed. The blonde woman, previously a projectile, was getting to her feet, furious eyes on Yuuri. “Cmon.” He yanked Yuuri forward, he’d feel bad about that later, so the blonde witch narrowly missed the back of his jacket.

“The car, Mila! I’ve got Yuuri.”

He tossed another candle at their pursuer and ushered Yuuri along with an arm around his waist. They scrambled together towards the door.

Outside, Mila was climbing into the driver’s seat as Yurio clambered over the console, then lunged backward to open the rear door for Viktor and Yuuri. They dove and landed awkwardly with Viktor more than half on top of Yuuri. He tugged his legs in and pulled the door shut. Mila had the car started and out the driveway before the door was even shut all the way.

“What the fuck?” Viktor asked, dazed, turning to stare at Yuuri who was lying on his side, arms full of spell book. 

“Winnifred’s spell book,” he gasped, clutching it to his chest. “Couldn’t let her keep it.”

“How - how did you even think of that?” 

“Dunno. Er, can you -” He glanced at Viktor, who was still draped over his legs.

“Sorry,” Viktor collected himself while Yuuri pulled his legs up and twisted himself upright.

“What the fuuuuck,” asked Mila. “Like, that happened, right? You saw the lightning?”

“Oh yeah, there was lightning,” Yuuri confirmed. “And you threw a person. At another person. Which, while lower on the scale, is still a ‘ _what the fuck_ ’.” He set the book down in the footwell then absently wiped his hand on the seat, like it had left his hands feeling gross.

Mila shrugged, “If I can skate with Viktor held over my head after he’s had contraband beignets and po’ boys, I can toss a witch.”

“Cross-training.” Yurio added. “Mila and I chose martial arts. Viktor chose _yoga_. Did that downward dog come in handy?”

Well, at least the shock hadn’t dulled his personality.

Viktor was saved from his reply, probably something along the lines of ‘just you wait and see. Down dog will _save your life_ ’ by the unfortunate sight of the ginger Sanderson sister knocking on the window of Mila’s door. She was _flying_. 

“What the fuck?” Viktor whispered. There was a woman flying outside their car and the horrible eye set in the cover of her book had just _opened_. He nudged Yuuri with an elbow and darted his eyes downward several times until Yuuri got the hint and looked.

Yuuri’s face reflected Viktor’s own horror. The eye was moving; the book was alive. Could it _communicate_? Had it told its mistress how to find them?

“Excuse me, you seem to have taken something of mine,” said mistress was saying from where she was perched on her _flying broomstick_. “I’d like it back,” she smiled with far too much tooth to be anything other than threatening. 

Yuuri started edging out of his jacket.

“Oh, sorry,” Mila said, mostly calm even if her voice had gone up an octave. “You must have the wrong car.”

Yuuri dropped his jacket on top of the book and his foot on top of that for good measure. Yuuri’s shirt, no longer hidden by the jacket, was mesh and sequins and not a whole lot else. Viktor couldn’t handle this. 

“Yeah, so fuck off, you old hag!” Awful Yuri pitched in from the front seat. 

“Hag?!” She was practically frothing with rage. Which was pretty convenient, as the rage distracted her from the “Welcome to Salem” sign placed very close to the road. Mila had not missed this; she had in fact been driving the car closer and closer to the shoulder as they approached so that Ginger Sanderson flew straight into the sign with a satisfying and horrific thud.

“Oh! Ok. Ok, um, where do we go?” Mila asked, drumming her hands on the wheel. “That’s not gonna stop her for long. Can they, I dunno, not enter a church or cross running water?”

“I think that’s vampires,” Viktor chipped in, slightly dazed.

“Water, no. But a church or a - oh! Turn left here!” Yuuri was leaning forward and clutching onto the back of Yurio’s seat to point at the desired street. Mila made a sharp left that had Viktor, not belted in or holding onto anything, sliding across the seat to collide with Yuuri who just moved his free arm up Viktor’s back so he could grab his shoulder. “There’s a graveyard a few blocks up. Hallowed ground.”

He released Yurio’s seat a little bit and leaned back. “Are you ok?” he asked Viktor, voice and eyes soft.

Viktor thought this over. “No, I don’t think so. You?”

“No, me either,” Yuuri gave a sad little head shake. 

Viktor nodded and leaned into the comforting warmth of Yuuri at his side. 

“Oh, sorry!” Yuuri dropped his arm. “I didn’t mean to - I’m not usually touchy with people who aren’t -”

“No, no, it was fine! Kinda comforting, actually.”

“Oh, okay. Good. That’s good.” Yuuri’s side was still pressed up close against Viktor’s. Neither of them moved away.

* * *

The rest of the drive passed in silence. The street with the graveyard entrance was mostly deserted. Shouts and laughter from other streets echoed eerily off the empty pavement. They climbed out of the car and stood uncertain on the sidewalk.

“It looks locked,” Mila pointed out, gesturing to the thick chains wrapped around the gate’s middle.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, there’s a - we used to sneak in all the time.” Yuuri led them down a few fence sections to a place where a couple bars had rusted away. He stepped onto the low stone wall then ducked through the gap in the iron. “This way,” he headed off into the graveyard, carrying the human skin bound book, dressed in his shimmery black and mesh. Viktor had never really had a goth phase, but if he had, he suspected he’d have had some dreams that started out like this. Probably without the human-leather.

Yurio followed Yuuri readily, far too excited about sneaking into a graveyard after hours.

“I think you’ve done it,” Mila murmured, “you’re finally too gay to function.”

Viktor didn’t bother trying to defend himself. “What _is_ that costume?” he tried not to whine.

“Depending on how the night ends, either proof that the God of the Gays wants you to be happy or wants to torture you.”

“How the night - I’m not - we’re not gonna -” Viktor spluttered.

She swatted at him. “I didn’t mean _that._ I meant that maybe you could try giving him your number again and he might actually take it.” Mila moved through the fence before her words had finished registering. 

“Why would you remind me of that?” Viktor hissed, following after her. “Besides, it’s not like you can talk. You were worse when you met Sara.”

“Hm, true.” She didn’t look remotely embarrassed. 

They found Yurio and Yuuri sitting on some stone benches in a section of the graveyard that was clearly “historic”.

“What’re you guys talking about?” Yurio asked, ever suspicious of things that made his cousins smirk.

“Being too gay to function,” Mila sing-songed. Yurio made one of his offended cat noises.

Viktor winked and flourished his hand at him. “So, so gay. But also, remember when she and Sara first met?”

“Oh yeah,” Yurio laughed, “I couldn’t even count how many times you skated into the boards because you were so distracted.”

“Yeah,” she smiled at the fond memory. “Anyway, um, what do we now?”

Yuuri frowned, “I’m trying to remember what exactly the candle does.”

“ _‘Made from the fat of a hanged man. Legend says that on a full moon it will raise the spirits of the dead when lit by a virgin on Halloween night’_ ,” Viktor recited.

Yuuri stared at him, “You can remember all that, but nothing in History class?” (Yurio cackled in delight.)

Viktor shrugged.

“Wait a minute!”

Viktor turned, ready to defend his academic non-success again. “I do fine on the tests when I study!”

“No, that’s not - You’re - you’re a virgin?”

Viktor frowned, because no, come to think of it he was not. Also, he didn’t really want to talk about his sex life with his fifteen-year-old cousin sitting right there, making more offended cat noises. (He had to tell Chris. He’d finally found a time when he _didn’t_ want to talk about sex.)

“But - you’re so hot!” Yuuri continued on then clapped his hands over his mouth, as if trying to get the words back.

Viktor’s mind blue screened for a second. He recovered quickly. “I’m not. Not a virgin, I mean, I’m not arguing that I’m not hot. Thank you, though.” He winked. It hadn’t saved him last time, but habits were habits.

Yuuri buried his face in his hands and made a strangled noise.

“A - That’s a weird assumption to make, Yuuri,” Mila cut in, “B - maybe the candle just… has a very narrow definition of sex. It’s not exactly a modern… human-fat necromancy candle. Maybe it, like, doesn’t believe in queer people?”

“Oh,” Viktor was blushing. Viktor did not blush. (Viktor was lying again.) “There are definitely _things_ I haven’t done. Like, my first lover -”

“Stop!” Yuuri screeched. 

“Why?” Yurio whispered, sounding an awful lot like Georgi as he stared wide-eyed at the sky.

“Anyway,” Mila continued, because Yuuri was dead from embarrassment, Viktor was recalculating their interactions, and Yurio was busy with an existential crisis. “I heard them talking about needing something _by dawn_ , so maybe the candle’s magic only works until then. Maybe we can wait it out.” She didn’t sound optimistic. 

Viktor briefly wondered when exactly she’d heard that, then remembered there was a lot that happened in the museum that he hadn’t paid a ton of attention to. He’d been distracted by Yuuri. Yuuri who thought he was _hot_.

“They need a potion,” Yurio nodded, springing back to the land of the living. “That’s what they were brewing on the night they were arrested, my teacher said. A potion to steal the life forces of well, it would work on anyone, but children were preferred.” He made a face.

“And the recipe has gotta be in that book. The card said it had her darkest and strongest spells.” Mila continued, triumphant.

“So, they’ll be coming for us,” Viktor summarized. “ _Can_ we just wait them out?”

The suggestion was met with shrugs. It might not be the most comfortable, but spending Halloween in a graveyard was at least very thematic.

So they settled in to wait. Mila and Yurio were occupying one bench, and while there was space beside Yuuri on the other one, Viktor suspected that neither would be comfortable with that arrangement. He went to go perch on a nearby headstone, “William Butcherson, huh? Hope your life was less ridiculous than mine.”

Enough time passed that Viktor’s butt had become very uncomfortable on his cold makeshift seat. Yurio and Mila were laughing at something together on Mila’s phone. Yuuri was still hunched defensively and was tapping frantically at own his phone which kept chirping notifications at him. Great, what a wonderful and distracting night this was turning into. At least he had Yuuri thinking he was hot to balance out that “why on earth would I ever want your number, Viktor Ilyich Nikiforov?” stare from a few days ago. He was hot, he just wasn’t dateable.

Never mind, that didn’t balance out at all.

As if reading his mind Yuuri came over. His phone chirped in his hand, he glanced at the screen, shook his head, and took a deep breath. “Hi,” he said with a small smile.

“Hi,” Viktor smiled back, probably blushing, which he didn’t do. ( _Yuuri_ thought he was hot.)

“Sorry for putting you on the spot about being a virgin to straight people sex.”

Viktor choked. “Don’t worry about it, happens all the time.”

“There’s no shame in it, you know,” Yuuri continued, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Plenty of people never have straight people sex and still lead very fulfilling lives.”

“ _Yuu_ ri,” Viktor whined through his laugh.

Yuuri smiled at him and took a seat next to him on the headstone. “So three hundred year dead witches with a limited definition of sex are chasing after us. You doing anything else tonight, or is this all you got planned?”

Viktor laughed, “I dunno, I was thinking I might catch a movie later. You?”

“Yeah, I could handle a movie.” Yuuri was biting his lip and not quite making eye contact, but he was – this was flirting, right? The stress wasn’t just making Viktor hallucinate? Viktor was a little worried about what his face was doing because Yuuri was staring. “That’s a much better smile than that fake one you used in class.”

Viktor was stunned.

People frequently accused him of being shallow. That wasn’t really fair, he thought, when he was just giving people what they wanted. They wanted the shiny new kid, the star athlete (especially after he’d medaled in the Olympics), the flirt. They wanted charm and smiles and Viktor, ever the performer, delivered.

“I don’t think anyone has called me on my fake smile in about five years. I practiced _a lot_.”

Yuuri frowned at him - like the face Awful Yuri made when someone asked him how to do a skating jump and didn’t accept “you just do it” as an answer – and pulled his chirping again phone out of his pocket.

 **Phichit Chula-never-gonna-give-you-up** _(3 min)  
__YUURI I SWEAR TO GOD_

 **Phichit Chula-never-gonna-give-you-up** _(now)  
__YUURI_

 **Phichit Chula-never-gonna-give-you-up** _(now)  
__YOU HAD BETTER BE NOT REPLYING BECAUSE YOU ARE (finally) GETTING YOUR FLIRT ON_

Viktor didn’t mean to read his notifications. But he’d responded to struggling to learn the Latin alphabet the same he responded to struggling with most things he refused to struggle in – sheer obstinance. He’d aggressively sought out and read things in English and French until it was second nature. (But seriously, he’d had less trouble with kana the year they’d lived in Osaka. Shared letters that meant different noises in English and Russian confused his brain more than the totally new Japanese syllabaries.)

He looked away hurriedly, trying to quash the hope that was fluttering in his chest again. There were plenty of people Phichit could be encouraging his friend to flirt with. He might not even mean _flirt_ , maybe it had some other meaning between the two of them.

“I don’t think I’ve heard Yura screech so often before. He usually reins it in a bit better in ballet class.” Yuuri remarked absently, breaking the silence.

“…he let’s you call him Yura?”

“Yeah. I heard Coach Feltsman call him that, and I asked what it meant and he explained about, um, name familiarity levels and said I could call him that if I wanted to.”

“Huh.” _Ask me_ , Viktor thought, _Please ask me_.

“Does, uh, Mila have a short form?”

Viktor repressed a sigh, “Mila _is_ the short form. Her full name is Lyudmila - she doesn’t like it much, mostly only uses it when we’re _in_ Russia. The even more familiar forms,” Viktor shook his head, “pretty much just for family and partners.”

“Oh,” he was silent for a moment, “Do you go back often?”

Viktor shrugged, “Often enough. We go for skating, and so Yura can see his grandfather, and so Yakov can pretend he doesn’t care about seeing his ex. Do you go back to Japan often?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Not since we moved.”

They say in silence for a moment.

Viktor nodded. “Can I ask what your costume is?” It was a sudden topic shift, but the half-mesh top and the crystals and the half-skirt with red lining were _very_ distracting. 

Yuuri tensed up and Viktor hadn’t even realized how relaxed he’d been. “It’s, uh, I lost a bet.”

“ ‘I lost a bet’ is a funny costume theme.”

Yuuri sighed, “No, it’s - I lost so Phichit got to pick out my costume this year. It’s eros.”

“Like… Greek Cupid? It’s an interesting take on it.”

“Ahh, no, more like-” he mumbled something very quickly.

“Sorry, what was that?” Viktor grinned.

Yuuri gripped his knees and stared determinedly off into the tree line. “More like the embodiment of sexual love,” he said in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

“Oh.” The God of the Gays clearly wanted Viktor to suffer. 

“Is - Do you see that?”

The only thing Viktor could see was the babe sitting next to him. _Sexual Love._ Phichit was a genius.

“There, above the trees!”

Viktor looked and sure enough he could see something. Three dark shapes moving rapidly toward them. “They’re coming.”

“Guys,” he said in a harsh whisper as he approached Mila and Yurio. “They’re coming. Hide.”

Mila pulled a beanie from her purse over her bright hair and curled into a ball at the base of a nearby tree. Her all-black clothing blended in nicely with the shadows. Yurio ducked under the wing of an angel monument. Viktor tugged Yuuri into the doorway of a mausoleum. It was a bit cramped and Viktor would definitely have spiderwebs in his hair.

Yuuri looked at him and shrugged apologetically. Viktor smiled and left his fingers clutching at Yuuri’s shoulder as the shadows passed by. At least the full moon was good for something.

“I feel like we’re hiding from the Nazgûl,” Viktor murmured, fighting back a hysterical giggle.

“Nerd,” Yuuri replied with a soft smile.

“Should we -”

Yuuri shook his head.

“What would you get?” Viktor asked in a whisper, needing the distraction.

“What?” Yuuri looked bewildered.

“If you’d won the bet, what was your prize?”

“Oh. Um, he couldn’t sing songs from any of the King and the Skater movies for a month.”

Viktor raised his eyebrows and fought back a smile. “Oh.”

Yuuri shrugged. “They’re so catchy. It’s awful.”

“Fair enough. I – oh.”

The shadows were back. And they weren't moving away.

“We can smell you, you know. You reek of fear.”

“Winnifred, look!”

“Winnifred is the eldest, the redhead,” Yuuri murmured absently.

“My darling! Did the little mice leave you behind when they went to hide in their holes? _Boo~OO~ook_ ~”

And the horrible human-leather book that they had indeed left on the ground started to rise up towards the witches hovering in the sky.

A blur of pale gold and black went streaking by as Yurio dashed out from under his angelic shelter to snatch the book out of the air and skid to a halt across the gravel walk. Though the book was clearly still trying to go to its mistress, it was losing that fight.

“Suck it, hag!” Yurio taunted.

“Poor choice of where to stand. Billy, my love, wake up, won’t you?”

She and her sisters started reciting a poem - Viktor knew it was in English, but his brain refused to hold on to the words and his stomach suddenly seethed with bile.

It was over as soon as it began. His stomach was fine and his ears didn’t feel coated in mud. He took a deep breath and tried to relax.

The ground under Yurio’s feet was shaking.

The shaking knocked Yurio over and he watched in rapt horror as what was undoubtedly a pair of decaying hands, followed by a pair of decaying arms, and then a whole decaying body. A very active and moving decaying body.

“Is that -”

“What the fuck?” Yuuri whispered.

A zombie. There was an actual fucking zombie.

Distantly Viktor’s brain processed the sound of Winnifred shouting commands at the zombie, “Bring me the book!”

Yurio was quicker on the uptake and took off at a sprint. 

Yuuri looked like he was doing mental algebra. “Oh! I know! Follow me,” and then he took off as well, leaving Viktor and Mila to dash after him.

Mila made a “what the fuck” face at him which he just mirrored back. Like _he_ had any idea. So they followed Yurio and Yuuri into a sewer tunnel (?) and popped up outside of the community center. Viktor’s brain was a little too full of white noise to pay much attention. 

“What… the fuck,” Yurio panted, leaning against a lamppost.

“Billy Butcherson was Winnifred’s boyfriend when he was alive.”

Yurio rolled his eyes, “Oh, that explains everything.”

“He cheated on her with Sarah, the blonde sister, so Winnifred killed him horribly. And apparently made him her zombie thrall,” Yuuri said all this in a voice of detached calm.

“How could he be dumb enough to cheat on a powerful witch?” Viktor wondered aloud.

Yuuri shrugged.

“Vitya,” Mila said, catching his sleeve, “Didn’t Yakov say he was going to the town party at the community center?”

“Yeah. Yes!” If anyone could scare off a trio of witches, it was Yakov.

* * *

The inside of the community center was a nightmare of not-sober adults starting to seem like they wanted to get their freak on. The main party was in a large rectangular room and a live band at one end. The music was - well, it was whatever adults apparently enjoyed dancing to. Poor Yurio looked like he might die.

They found Yakov standing surly in the corner next to a sprightly Japanese woman Viktor recognized from around the rink. Minako something?

“What’re you all doing here? Don’t you have parties of your own to go to?” Yakov demanded.

“Well, yes, we did, but -” Yuuri.

“It’s not like we want to be here!” Yurio, at a much higher than normal decibel. 

“Yakov, we fucked up.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course you did, what happened?”

“We went to the Sanderson house -”

“ - and then Viktor lit the candle -”

“The black flame candle!”

“Yurio told me to!”

“They’re back, Minako-sensei! The Sanderson sisters, they’re back!”

“Yuuri, what?”

“They’re back and they’re-”

“They’re here.” Mila, who had thus far been quiet, content to let the others talk over themselves, slapped at Viktor’s chest to catch his attention. He followed her gaze into the crowd. Sure enough there they were, their outdated dresses blending in with the Halloween crowd.

“Fuck,” Yurio said, then sprinted off into the crowd towards the stage. 

“Where’s he - “ Viktor made to follow, but Yakov grabbed his sleeve. Mila escaped his grasp and went haring off after Yurio.

“Vitya, you can’t be serious with all this. Be kind to an old man’s blood pressure, what’s really going on?”

“We told you. They’re witches.”

Yakov shook his head, pulled his sleeve free, and walked away.

Minako eyed them for a moment longer, “Well, I’m glad you’re making new friends.” She gave Viktor a suspicious look that said, _You should hold off on that baby name list until you have my blessing_.

Viktor just smiled to say _I will win you all over_. He stopped smiling when he heard Yurio fighting with the singer over control of the microphone.

“What is he-“

“Losers of Salem!” Yurio announced, off to a great and compelling start. “I’ve come to warn you of great and imminent danger!”

All in all, Yurio’s announcement that the witches were back wasn’t bad. It really wasn’t his fault that no one took him seriously. And no one could have expected Winnifred Sanderson to take the stage with an _inspired_ Screamin’ Jay Hawkins cover, with her sisters on back up vocals.

Viktor’s last coherent thought was “oh dang, she can sing” and then the lyrics went funny and his thoughts got indistinct and all he knew was that he _needed_ to dance. Yuuri offered him his hand and he took it, of course he took it, what fool wouldn’t, and let himself be led out onto the dance floor. It was a happy blur from there. Yuuri was _good_. And he felt right in Viktor’s arms. When Yuuri switched his hands after a turn so Yuuri was leading that felt right, too. Viktor happily let himself be led through the steps and spin outs.

Yuuri dipped him at the end of the song and Viktor flowed with it, eager, trusting, Yuuri’s arm confident and sure on his back. Yuuri smiled at him and _yes_ , Viktor could spend the rest of eternity just like this - dancing with Yuuri.

* * *

The cold of the night air brought him out of it, some. He was outside, not dancing with Yuuri but slung like a potato sack over Mila’s shoulder.

“...what?” he asked. It took him a couple tries to get his mouth to work. And he honestly couldn’t be sure if it had come out in English or Russian.

“Stay with him,” Mila was saying. Russian! That was definitely Russian. She set him down on his feet and he stumbled and almost fell, but was caught by…

“Yurochka!” he booped his cousin’s nose.

“Do it fast,” Yurio grumbled, “So I don’t have time to murder this idiot.”

Viktor sighed and leaned more heavily on his tiny cousin. “I miss Yuuri. He’s so pretty,” Viktor confided to Yurio’s shoulder in a sleepy grumble.

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re still enchanted or just being yourself, and you should be _ashamed_.”

“Always so angry, Yurochka,”

Yurio hissed something angrily in a language Viktor’s muddled brain couldn’t process.

Because he did have some sense of self-preservation after all he didn’t comment again on his cousin’s wrath, settling for a mumbled, “Котёнок,” and falling over. Yurio didn’t even try to catch him.

* * *

Viktor next came to to the sound of Yurio squawking angrily at Mila. Something about “of course I let him fall over, have you met him?”

Viktor sat up slowly. His skull screamed in protest, but he persevered. “Ow, my head.”

“Well someone did let you fall over.”

“He let himself fall over,” Yurio grumbled.

“I think it’s an effect of the spell, actually,” Yuuri spoke up, holding a hand to his own head, and carefully not looking at Viktor.

“How come this one’s not a gibbering idiot?” Yurio asked, pointing rudely.

“I accidentally dumped cold water on him; it snapped him out of it.”

“Can I dump cold water on Viktor?” Yurio sounded far too excited by the prospect.

“I think Vitya’s fine, Yura.”

Yurio sighed dramatically, but offered a hand to pull Viktor up just the same. “He’s never fine.”

Viktor accepted the hand. “You pushed me in so many pools this summer. I’m worried you’ve formed a habit.”

Yurio shrugged, unapologetic. “You kept being annoying next to pools. I’m only human.” He threw a friendly elbow at Viktor’s ribs.

“How come you two didn’t get up in… whatever that was?” Viktor grumbled, still rubbing at his temples.

Mila shrugged, “Maybe I’m too awful of a dancer for ‘dance until you die’ to work on me.” For a gold medal skater, she was singularly uncoordinated on the dancefloor.

Yurio shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m just not dumb enough to be ensorcelled. Duh.”

“Wow! Amazing!” Viktor wasn’t normally a sarcastic person, but his head was throbbing and that was a ridiculous explanation for a perfectly valid question.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Mila cut in, “I texted Chris when I wasn’t sure what to do about you two disasters. He and Phichit should be here soon.”

“Great. As long as the witches’ secret weakness is inappropriately sexual displays we’re saved,” Yurio huffed.

“C’mon, I told them to meet us in town,” Mila stalked off without waiting to see if the others would follow.

Viktor jogged to catch up. “You’re mad.”

“Yes. Well, no. This is just - really now how I wanted this night to go. Really, Viktor, we agreed years ago not to take advice from anyone who owns more than five pieces of animal print clothing.”

“Hey!” Yurio called, offended, from somewhere behind them. (They had made up the rule specifically for him.)

“I _know_.”

“And yet you let him goad you into lighting some bizarre necro-candle.”

Goad was a strong word, but sure.

“I know.”

“I just - I expected tonight’s struggle to be not making out with girls who aren’t my girlfriend, not you know - witches.”

“Well, it’s only Friday, and I’m told Halloween is a multi-day holiday here, so we can find hot girls for you to not make out with at parties tomorrow”

Mila laughed, “I’m holding you to that, Nikiforov.”

They met up with Chris and Phichit another block down. (Chris’ costume turned out to be Arthur from The King and the Skater, if a bit skimpier than Viktor remembered from the film. He matched Phichit’s (less skimpy) costume as the King.) There was a lot of hugging, which was expected, and also a lot of very significant eyebrow communication that Viktor noticed but couldn’t interpret. Yuuri turned brilliantly red, yet again, though that may have also been due to Chris’ hand on his ass.

Chris maintained eye contact with Viktor the entire time, and it was easy to recognize his pre-competition challenge face. 

“Alright, so what we know is…“

What Viktor knew was that he was _not_ going to ask his best-non-relative friend _what the actual fuck, bro?_

Because calling dibs on people wasn’t a thing. And Yuuri was clearly okay with it, in a way that he wasn’t okay with _eye contact_ when it came to Viktor.

_(“Dude, that’s kind of fucked up.”_

_“Technically they’re already dead. Also, they want to kill you guys. And-slash-or all the children.”)_

So really, it was fine. Viktor was a gentleman. And a good friend. And if Yuuri and Chris wanted to be together he would be politely supportive and not throw a fit at their wedding. Because if Chris didn’t make an honest man out of him, he was going to be upset. But really, Chris could’ve mentioned that they were at ass-groping level of intimacy when they’d talked about this whole thing yesterday. “Kept in _touch_ ”, honestly, Viktor should have known. He shook his head and focused on the conversation going on around him.

“Alright, so, that’s the plan? Lure the witches into the school and do a classic “kill it with fire” using the school kiln.”

Wait, _what?_ Viktor tuned out for five minutes and his friends were contemplating murder. 

“Wait, guys, you can’t be serious?”

“Do you have a better plan?” Phichit asked. It had probably been too much to hope that he’d be the voice of reasons. Viktor did, after all, follow his Instagram. Viktor knew about his idea of fun. (Ordinarily there was a lot more eyeliner and Yuuri in mesh, but right now it was a B&E and debatable triple-homicide.)

“No,” Viktor said, because he obviously didn’t. “Anyway, the school is probably locked.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I have lockpicks.” Christophe piped up. Of course he did.

The plan was simple, they were going to break in, wait for the witches, lure them to the art room via relay race, and then immolate them in the school kiln, which Yurio claimed to know how to operate.

They piled into the Honda, clown car style, and set off for the high school. (It was walkable, but they wanted the head start, and the sidewalks were crowded with trick-r-treaters.)

When they get to the school… the sidewalk was still full of trick-r-treaters. All the sidewalks surrounding the school were. People just standing around, talking, laughing, surreptitiously drinking. (It wasn’t very surreptitious as the only cop they’d seen all night was blatantly a regular dude in a Party Depot costume.) There was no way the six of them could casually march up to the doors and pick the locks. 

“Fuck.”

“How’re we - some kind of distraction -”

“Viktor,” Yurio grabbed him by both arms. “Viktor. You have to do yoga.”

“What?”

“We need a distraction! You need to do yoga!”

Mila gasped, “Yura’s right!”

“What?” Maybe there was some lingering effect of the “dance until you die” spell that caused auditory hallucinations. Maybe his brain was turning all their sentences into harmless yoga related things rather than harmful homicide related things.

“Remember that time you did yoga in the park and caused two car accidents?”

Yes, he did remember that. It had been incredibly traumatic. “I’m hardly dressed for it.” He was already taking off his jacket.

“Viktor, chéri, you haven’t worn pants you couldn’t do the splits in since you were twelve. I don’t say this lightly: Your ass is our only hope,” Chris clapped him on the shoulder and made solemn eye contact. “Obviously, I would do it if my talents and _assets_ were not needed elsewhere.”

Yurio punched his arm, “No puns.”

Which was the story of how Viktor wound up here, in the parking lot of his high school, painfully sober, pretending to do drunk yoga in naught but his dance tights. (The cover story for why drunk yoga was happening was fake drunk Phichit saying he couldn’t do it. It was important for even the dumbest roleplays to have a solid backstory.) Technically speaking, Viktor had not trained his whole life for this - he had trained his whole life for figure skating grands prix and world championships. Along the way he had accidentally picked up an extensive repertoire of asanas and stretches that flattered his ass. 

As distractions went, it seemed to be working well. Viktor obviously couldn't stop and study the crowd, so just gave his all to his performance and hoped that Phichit’s whoops and hollers would do the rest. He’d contorted himself into a hovering dragonfly that he probably couldn’t do if he was actually drunk - either the leg extension or the arm balance would trip him up - but the concentration required was pretty soothing right now, compared to the stress of the child-eating witches chasing after them.

Yuuri came casually jog-walking towards them from around the corner - they must have unlocked another door once inside. “There you guys are!” he yelled, fake drunk and jovial. “I’ve been looking everywhere for - jesus god have mercy.”

“Thought you’d want to see this. Don’t worry, I took photos for you.”

“Phichit!”

“Oh, like I was the only one.”

Viktor carefully, and dramatically, he was a performer after all, reversed himself out of the pose, but then, because he was incapable of not doing the most at all times, he switched to the other side. Balancing the muscles was important!

“Fuuuck,” Yuuri sounded a bit like he was dying; Viktor tried not to preen too obviously.

“I know, go get your man, sweetie.”

“What?!”

“Well, I can’t go tell him to stop doing it. I’m the instigator.”

“Viktor? C’mon, um,” Yuuri’s legs wandered into view. He was carrying Viktor’s boots in one hand and dress in the other. “We’ve, um, got a party to go to.”

Viktor untwisted himself and settled back onto his heels. “Ok,” he said, smiling softly up at him. He was perhaps a little too chilled out.

Yuuri sighed and dropped to his knees to join Viktor on the pavement. He passed Viktor one of his boots. “C’mon, I’ll do the other.”

There were “aww”s from the crowd. And at least one “Damn, he’s taken.”

* * *

Their part in the school involved a lot of waiting. They were stationed at one of the central junctions. Depending on which entrance, the witches used, someone would come running at them, duck into the nearby janitors’ closet, and let them continue the trail to the art room.

“Er, sorry about in the parking lot earlier.”

Viktor frowned. _The parking lot? When Yuuri had near-swooned over his ass?_ Nothing to apologize for there.

“I, um, didn’t realize you were flirting with me. Phichit kept saying -”

“What?”

“Oh god, you weren’t, were you? I’m gonna kill Phichit.”

“No, no, I definitely was.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize. It just… didn’t make sense.”

“Me flirting with you didn’t make sense?”

Yuuri shrugged and said nothing else.

“Right.” Viktor said. He almost wished the witches would show up. At least they made sense, in their own way. “So… you weren’t rejecting me then?”

Yuuri broke his vigil down the hallway and stared at him. “Why would I do that?”

“Why _wouldn’t_ I be flirting with you?”

“You don’t _know_ me.”

Viktor sighed. “I know our teachers all wish you talked more in class. I know you skate beautifully and I know I’m sorry the rink closed down and we couldn’t keep competing against each other. I know you’re the only person who’s called me out on being fake-charming, well apart from Yura, but that’s different. Mostly I know that I really want to get to know you better. Sort of the point of the whole dating thing.”

“Oh.”

They stood in silence for a bit. Listening for the telltale sounds of running or screaming.

“It goes both ways, you know,” Yuuri said out of the blue.

Viktor stared at him. “What?”

“The knowing.”

Viktor’s brain temporarily whited out with happiness. And mild panic.

“-you’re so good with the younger kids at the rink. They aren’t old enough to be intimidated by your _Olympic medal_ and you’re so patient with them.”

Viktor smiled, he liked kid fans. They so rarely wanted much more from him than the occasional touch to his hair, to assure themselves it was real.

“Anyway, I, uh, want to get to know you, too.”

He wanted to – oh. “Oh.”

“Can’t believe you thought I was rejecting you,” Yuuri muttered more to himself than Viktor.

Well, it was probably better to warn him now. If he hadn’t figured it out already. “I mean, I put skating first, and a lot of people don’t like that. And I’m – what’s the - ‘kind of a lot’? ‘too much’? One of those. Probably both.” Viktor shrugged. It wasn’t like people got to Olympic levels of skill with moderated intensity and varied hobbies.

“Who the fuck said that?” Yuuri asked, sounding angrier than Viktor had ever heard before.

Viktor shrugged again, not wanting to pull out the list.

“You’re not – Viktor, you’re exactly enough.”

“Oh,” Viktor said again, stupidly. Then, “You literally ran away the first time I tried to talk to you.”

“Oh. Right. That. That was -”

What that was Viktor was not to find out. Mila was pelting down the hall towards them. It was go time.

* * *

The trip to the Feltsman-Nikiforov-Babicheva-Plisetsky house was silent. The grim business of the witches’ screams echoing in all their heads.

“Yakov? Are you home?” Mila yelled as they entered. There wasn’t much point - the house was dark and silent. “Guess he’s still at the party.” 

Yurio nodded, “Tea.” As a reply, it didn’t make much sense, but also it made perfect sense, and they shuffled after him to the kitchen. Yurio filled the kettle and switched it on and Viktor went to dig the herbal teas out of the cupboard. 

The whole thing seemed more surreal in the warm light of the kitchen with the kettle burbling in the background. Phichit and Christophe were giggling over the novelty mugs - a mixture of puns and skating competition memorabilia. (The pun ones were mostly gifts from Viktor to Yakov, who would always roll his eyes and scoff but would wrap them carefully for every move.) Yuuri was carefully eyeing each box of tea like this was a life-or-death decision.

“Should we just… camp out in the living room until sunup?” Viktor asked. He personally wasn’t inclined to just tuck himself in bed like it was a normal night, and he couldn’t imagine any of the others were either. 

Chris shrugged. Phichit nodded. Yurio looked pissed. That was basically a unanimous assent.

“Great, I’ll get blankets,” Mila said with a broad smile and a clap of her hands. Viktor trailed after her, drifting silently up the stairs.

“They were already dead, right?” She asked, having stopped in front of the linen closet. 

“Right,” Viktor echoed.

“They tried to kill us.”

“They did.”

“I’m not gonna feel okay about this for a long time,” she said, opening the closet and staring sightlessly in.

“No,” he draped himself over her shoulders. “Me either. And no one will believe us if we tried to tell them.”

“No,” she shook her head and reached up to grip the arm he’d wrapped around her. “Good thing we have each other.”

“Damn straight. I mean, even if neither of us are.”

That, at least, got a snort of laughter out of her. She wiggled free and shoved an armload of spare pillows and blankets into his arms.

After depositing their burdens on the living room coffee table, Viktor went back upstairs to wash his face. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night could hold Viktor back from proper skincare. Since he was upstairs anyway, he traded his dress for sweatpants and oversized sweater. Not his cutest ensemble, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

* * *

When Viktor finally made it to the living room, Yurio was curled up and fast asleep in the squashy armchair. Christophe and Mila were talking quietly on the floor in front of the chair, backs to it, and Phichit was already asleep with his head on Chris’ leg. Yuuri was occupying half the loveseat against the other wall. When he saw Viktor looking, he pulled his legs up closer and looked pointedly from the empty space beside him to Viktor. 

Viktor sat, shuffling his mug of peppermint tea to his other hand and accepting the blanket that Yuuri tossed over his legs. 

Yuuri smiled at him for a second then went back to blowing on his tea.

* * *

When Viktor woke a few hours later, the sky was almost grey and Yuuri was slumped over on his shoulder. Or had been slumped. Yuuri stirring was what had woken him up.

“Sorry,” Yuuri muttered.

“Don’t be,” Viktor smiled, hoping at least one small upside of the last few hours drama and trauma would be that Yuuri could be capable of maintaining eye contact with him. Yuuri flushed, but stopped pulling away.

They sat in silence for a moment. “I don’t think I’m going back to sleep,” Yuuri murmured at last.

Phichit grumbled in his sleep to protest the noise.

Viktor, also awake for good, slipped off the couch and tilted his head toward the kitchen, where they could talk more comfortably. Suddenly at a loss for what to say he put the kettle on again and dug out fresh mugs.

When the tea was done he settled down at the table next to Yuuri who was staring into his mug like he was hoping it would turn into a teleprompter. Really there were so many things that needed to be said that Viktor had no idea where to start. Yuuri looked up at him and smiled softly. Conversation could wait.

“Do you, um, do you have a t-shirt or something I could borrow?” Yuuri asked when he’d emptied his mug.

It was a true testament to just how _much_ had been going on that Viktor had lost track of Yuuri’s ridiculous and amazing outfit. He was pretty sure he and Phichit were close enough now that he could thank him for his efforts without it being too weird. 

“Sure,” Viktor nodded and slid to his feet. “I’m surprised Yakov didn’t wake us up when he came in,” Viktor added, speaking slightly louder as they left their sleeping friends behind. They paused at the top of the stairs; Yakov’s door was wide open, the bed still unmade. “Oh.”

“I guess he’s still out.” Yuuri didn’t sound particularly certain.

“Yeah.” Viktor continued along to his room, trying to remember what state he’d left it in. Bed made? No. Dirty laundry everywhere? Also probably no. Viktor was not, by and large, a slob. He just didn’t generally see the point in making his bed. Now, with Yuuri, Cutest Boy Alive, Actual Angel too Good to Walk this Earth, in his room the rumpled sheets felt uncomfortably intimate. Is that why people made their beds? So if cute boys needed a change of clothes after a night spent fighting witches raised from the dead after 300 years they wouldn’t feel awkward? Nah, probably not.

Viktor grabbed a shirt he remembered as being borderline too small in the shoulders and one of his fifty pairs of identical grey sweatpants and passed them to Yuuri.

“I’ll, just, er, leave you to it.” Which was a bit stupid as it was his bedroom, but well, he’d already said it.

He brushed his teeth, trying not to look at himself in the mirror. If he did he would end up having a very serious conversation with himself, starting with, “Nikiforov, what the fuck is wrong with you?” He knew how to talk to cute boys, honest. Yuuri was just … so wonderful and so confusing.

 _Hadn’t realized he was flirting with him_. Honestly. What _else_ would he be offering his number for?

He shook his head and headed back to his own room to wait awkwardly outside his door for Yuuri to finish changing. Great, now he was just thinking about Yuuri being naked in his room. The door opened and Viktor tried not to startle too much.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

They hovered awkwardly in the door frame for a moment.

“Do you have your phone?” Yuuri broke the silence. “Mine’s downstairs.”

Viktor blinked and handed his phone over. Yuuri tapped at the screen for a minute or two then handed it back. “There, now you have my number.”

Oh. Well that was, hopefully, pretty straightforward. “And what did you want me to do with your number?”

“Well, I was thinking I should ask you out. Figured we could text about date plans.” Yuuri winked up at him, blatantly stealing his move.

“Oh?” Viktor asked, raising his brows and beaming. “Are you flirting with me right now?”

“I am, yeah,” Yuuri took a step into his space. “I hoped I was being clear, but if there’s anything I can do to make it more obvious, let me know.”

Viktor shrugged, “You should probably kiss me just to make sure I get it.”

Yuuri blinked at him and fuck, he’d come on too strong and scared him off again. But then Yuuri was smiling and curling a hand around the back of Viktor’s neck, tugging him down. The first touch of Yuuri’s lips to his was every cliche he’d ever scoffed at. It was lightning and fireworks and nothing but a pair of slightly chapped lips pressed to his own. Viktor did the only thing he could; he kissed back.

It started out simple and sweet. Viktor was glad for Yuuri’s hands on him; he might float away without them.

Yuuri grinned and twined his hand Viktor’s hair, the other resting casually on his hip. Their mouths connected again and the kiss deepened. Yuuri’s grip on his hip tightened then his hand slipped under his shirt. Viktor made a hungry noise at the touch of skin on skin. He pulled Yuuri closer to him, fingers digging into Yuuri’s ribs.

Yuuri took a step back, then another, tugging Viktor forward, until Viktor was pressing him into the wall.

“Yuuri,” he murmured, stunned. Yuuri grinned, far too sweetly, and pulled Viktor’s mouth back down to his. Yuuri whimpered when Viktor licked into his mouth and Viktor _melted_ at the sound. Yuuri’s hands were both under Viktor’s shirt, scratching at his ribs. Viktor made a weak noise and his hips jerked forward.

He froze for a second, sure there’d been some _pressing_ , but was he allowed to grind or would Yuuri run away? Yuuri would not run away, Yuuri would moan and kiss him harder.

“Viktor,” he gasped.

“Vitya,” Viktor corrected absently, bending to bite a kiss onto Yuuri’s neck. “Call me Vitya. Please.” He was not remotely above begging. He licked an apology to the reddened skin of Yuuri’s neck then moved up to nip at his earlobe. He felt Yuuri’s nod - jaw against the side of his head.

“Vitya,” Yuuri echoed, “Vitya, take your shirt off.”

Viktor couldn’t argue with that if he wanted to. He took a half step back to give himself enough space to pull his t-shirt off over his head. He meant to step back forward, to press his body to Yuuri’s, but he stopped at the look on yuuri’s face. Yuuri’s eyes were wide, his pupils blown, his lips reddened and slick, he looked… hungry.

Viktor’d been ogled before, been admired before, but it’d never made him feel like this. It wasn’t just that Yuuri wanted him; Yuuri _knew_ him.

He held his arms out slightly to the side, inviting Yuuri to look his fill. Yuuri’s hands ran gently from his collarbones to the divots above his hip bones, then back up. Viktor shivered when his thumb brushed a nipple.

“You’re so-” Yuuri bit his lip, cutting himself off. “Kiss me.” He was already stepping back into Viktor’s space, arms twining around Viktor’s neck. Their mouths met again, slick and hot. Someone was making hungry little noises – Viktor couldn’t say who.

He’d never been this affected by a kiss, by touching someone’s body through their clothes. His hands roamed up Yuuri’s sides and down his back, down his hips and thighs, trying not to grab his ass – he was afraid of being too hungry, too needy, too desperate. But Yuuri just gave it all back in kind.

“ _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri groaned again, biting Viktor’s collarbone. He caught one of Viktor’s wrists and placed Viktor’s hand firmly on his own ass. “You’re allowed to touch me. I _want you_ to touch me.”

His hands were burning on Viktor’s skin, his kiss so hard it almost hurt.

He walked Viktor backward, pushing him with his body until the back of Viktor’s legs hit the bed. Yuuri pulled back to stare at him, a question on his face.

Viktor nodded and clambered back onto the bed, clumsy with arousal. He tugged Yuuri with him by the hand. It was awkward - too many knees and elbows – Viktor laughed and winced when Yuuri’s hand on his hair on the mattress resulted in a sharp tug when Viktor tried to move.

“If you wanna pull my hair, just do it.”

Yuuri froze, kneeling between Viktor’s legs, staring down at him in rapt awe. “How are you _real_?”

He lunged forward and Viktor met him halfway, pulled him down on top of him. Yuuri groaned into Viktor’s mouth then tugged his head back by his hair so he could suck a bruise beneath his ear. “Vikt - _Vitya_. You’re so – Those assholes who think you’re too much are all idiots.”

Viktor laughed, “It’s not like we’re talking about, like, hordes of people here.”

Yuuri pulled back to stare at him. God, Viktor wanted to keep him here forever. “I’ve – a couple times – but it wasn’t – never like this.” Viktor found himself not wanting to make eye contact. Stories of daring adventures – quick and awkward and hurried – in broom closets and other people’s hotel rooms at skate competitions had lost their luster a bit, now that he had this to compare them to. This glow in his chest and feeling like champagne in his veins. Knowing the person, being in his own room where he will probably remember this everytime he walks in was new and terrifying. It was a rollercoaster ride that Viktor never wanted to end. One of Yuuri’s hands was beside Viktor’s head on the pillow so it was easy enough to reach out and grab it, press a kiss to his knuckles.

“I – same,” Yuuri said voice quiet and eyes wide. He mumbled something unintelligible about ‘band camp’ and then “ not – Nothing like this.” He stopped, looking suddenly anxious. “This – this is _something_ , right?”

 _No_ , Viktor wanted to say, _this was_ everything. Probably too soon for that. He kissed the inside of Yuuri’s wrist. Then the palm of his hand. “Yes,” Viktor answered at last. He leaned up and kissed Yuuri again. Slow and sweet until he couldn’t stand to hold back.

Viktor was grinding upwards shamelessly. He hooked an ankles around the back of Yuuri’s thigh to hold him in place, give himself more leverage. And god, Yuuri’s _thighs_. 

He froze and pulled back. Was this too much?

Yuuri glared at him. “ _Viktor_.”

Viktor shrugged, “I’m trying not to rush anything.” He laughed a little bit, because they were definitely rushing a bit considering their first _actual_ conversation had been today. But also it didn’t feel like rushing. He kissed along Yuuri’s jaw. “And you did literally run away from me that one time.”

“I wasn’t _ready_ ,” Yuuri groaned, burying his face in Viktor’s shoulder.

Viktor laughed, “Ready for what? All I said was hi.”

“ _Exactly_. I had a whole - You’re _really_ hot and talented, and I was trying to figure out - “

“ _Yuuri_ _.”_ Was it even possible to convince Yuuri that he was also hot and talented?

“That was the bet,” Yuuri mumbled, face still hidden.

Viktor jerked away. “Bet?” Maybe he’d seen too many teen romcoms, or maybe having the hot person you’d finally gotten into your bed mention a bet was highly alarming.

“With Phichit,” Yuuri continued, oblivious to Viktor’s alarm. “He said I couldn’t say a whole sentence to you in a month, and I said I was could, and I was trying to -”

Viktor silenced him with a kiss. “Yuuri, that’s ridiculous. All you had to say was -”

“I know,” Yuuri kissed him again, aggressive and thorough. Viktor was glad he wasn’t upright because there was no way his legs could support him through this. He opened his mouth to Yuuri’s and let him take what he wanted. He’d give him _anything_.

And really, that seemed like a much better plan than talking so Viktor wrapped his other leg around Yuuri’s waist, shifting slightly so Yuuri was more comfortably settled between his legs, and, yeah, they were almost definitely rushing, but Viktor wasn’t going to be the one to point that out. To suggest they should stop. (They should not stop. They should do this for the rest of forever.)

Yuuri shifted so the angle at which was grinding down was _just right_ and, “Oh god,” Viktor moaned. He wanted skin on skin. He wanted a lot of things he hadn’t tried before and he wanted Yuuri to want them, too.

“ _Vitya_.”

Viktor opened his eyes to find Yuuri watching him with a devastated look on his face. He cupped a hand to Yuuri’s face, his thumb resting by the corner of Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri turned slightly, he took Viktor’s thumb into his mouth and bit gently at the meat of it.

Viktor made an inhuman noise; this boy would be the death of him. Yuuri smiled at him, surprisingly sweet considering he hadn’t stopped grinding against Viktor like he was trying to do away with the last shred of Viktor’s self-control, and bent his head to kiss him again.

Viktor was just contemplating if it was worth separating long enough to take their pants off, if they were really doing this, when there was a scream and the sound of shattering glass from downstairs. 

Yuuri jerked away and turned to stare at the open door like there’d be some answers there. (Oh god, the door was still open. Viktor had never actually come in his pants, but he’d been embarrassingly close to it, and the door had been open for anyone to walk by and see.)

Angry shouts from downstairs spurred them to action. Yuuri scrambled back and off of him – there’d be time to regret that later - and they both moved toward the door. Viktor almost tripped running down the stairs, worry making his heart thud in his chest.

He arrived in the living room to see the French doors to the patio blown off their hinges and the witch trio - very much alive - floating on their brooms amidst the wreckage. One of them, the dark haired one, had an unconscious Yurio tossed over the broom in front of her like particularly ungainly leopard print luggage. They were cackling. The blond paused to leer at Viktor and Yuuri and then they were gone.

They’d taken Yurio with them.

* * *

Two minutes later they were piled into the car. Mila was anxious at the wheel, sticking to just five miles over the speed limit because traffic had lightened up and the last thing they needed was getting held up to get a speeding ticket.

About five minutes into the drive Viktor turned to face Phichit who’d been staring at him silently the entire time. He had to lean forward to glare around Yuuri who was sitting between them to do it, so it had been pretty noticeable.

“Yes?”

“If you hurt him, I will end you. And they will never find your body.”

“Phichit, I’m right here, oh my god.”

Viktor and Phichit both ignored this interjection. Viktor nodded at the Thai boy. “Ok, that seems fair.”

“You’re both ludicrous,” Yuuri groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, and?” Phichit and Viktor asked in unison. They grinned at each other. 

“I hate to interrupt,” Chris cut in from the front seat, “but do we have a plan? Like, for when we get there?”

“About that,” Viktor said, smiling, “I actually had an idea about what to do…”

* * *

Mila cut the lights when they approached the gravel drive up to the house-museum. She killed the engine, let out a slow breath, and said, “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The other four climbed out and moved into position to push the car the rest of the way. Between the power of four pairs of figure skater legs (what was the horsepower on that?) it honestly wasn’t too terrible of a challenge.

Mila and Viktor crept up to one of the windows that flanked the front door. The distinctive sound of Yurio cursing was like music to their ears. He was ok.

“You know,” one of the witches remarked when he paused for breath, “We honestly could have used anyone for this. You’re a bit older than our generally preferred age range. But you called us … you said that word - “ She sounded genuinely choked up. Mila and Viktor stared at each other with wide eyes.

“What, ugly?” Yurio laughed. “You are ugly, you hag.”

Viktor risked a peep over the door frame. The trio was clustered with their backs to the window. He couldn’t see what they were standing around, but he could guess. Next to them a huge cauldron hung from a hook on the ceiling. Whatever was in was glowing an eerie green and wafting fog like it was full of dry ice. 

The redhead’s breath hitched on a sob, and the blonde one went over to comfort her. “It’s okay, Winnie,” the brunette - Mary? - crooned. “The potion has finished brewing. He won’t be able to say such terrible things for much longer.”

This seemed to bolster Winnie, who pulled herself together and scooped some of the potion out of the cauldron with an improbably large wooden spoon. She approached Yurio with the spoon, contents steaming.

“Open up,” Sarah sing-songed, holding onto Winnie’s shoulder.

Viktor nodded to Mila and she inched over and eased the door open.

He watched in terrified silence as she shuffled over to a hiding spot behind a shelf. Situated, she gave him a thumbs up. 

Yurio, meanwhile, had bitten fingers of Mary, who’d foolishly tried to force him to open his mouth.

Viktor nodded once to himself briskly, took down his hair for good luck, stood, and threw the door open with a bang. 

“And so we meet again,” he said dramatically as they whirled to face him.

Yurio rolled his eyes, but whatever he said was drowned out by the witches’ laughter. 

“Hello again, little Carabosse. Have you come for another round?” Winnifred greeted him with a menacing sort of smirk.

Viktor smiled. “I’m here to rescue my cousin. He’s obnoxious and rude as fuck, but he’s mine.”

“How sweet of you. You got the jump on us once, but it won’t happen again. And your little friends aren’t here to help you.”

“Oh, I don’t need backup to take you on.” Viktor said, stalling for time as Mila crept over to the chair that Yurio was tied to. “You see, I know something you don’t know.”

She smirked at him, “Somehow I doubt that. But, please, do go on.”

Viktor hadn’t been underestimated in a longtime. He wasn’t sure if he’d missed it. The three witches watched him as he walked – even in sweatpants he could captivate an audience. Their expressions ranged from cruel (Winnifred), to a little pervy, considering the centuries of age difference (Sarah), to a mix of confused and disgusted with his general existence (Mary).

Mila was creeping behind them to where Yurio was bound. She started sawing at the ropes.

“You, for all your might and magic, have forgotten about science.”

Winnifred’s eyebrow shot up. “Oh? Are our humours out of balance? Do we need leeches?” The sisters cackled.

The ropes parted beneath Mila’s knife and she and Yurio started creeping towards the back door.

Viktor allowed himself a smirk. “No. No leeches. Daylight savings time!” he flicked his hand in the signal that had been agreed upon by him and Christophe, waiting in the car out front. Light, red like blood or the dawn, flooded the room. Winnifred froze, face twisted by rage. Behind her, Mary and Sarah started screaming, hands thrown up in front of their faces to shield themselves. Winnifred joined in with a bloodcurdling shriek and Viktor ran to the door. It would only be so long before they realized the trick.

Viktor ripped the red paper off the headlights as he made his way to the nearest door with an empty seat. He ended up in the back seat, crammed in with Yuuri, Yurio, and Phichit. Christophe gunned it as soon as the door was shut.

They headed back to the cemetery. Hallowed ground was probably their best bet and the real sunrise would soon be upon them. They climbed through the gap in the fence and dashed inwards.

Yurio ran straight into Billy the Zombie’s arms. “Ugh, not you again.” He aimed a kick at the zombie’s shins which was dodged. The zombie was pretty spry for his age.

“Billy, my love!” crooned Winnifred, floating above the cemetery gate. Damn those broomsticks were fast. “Hold the wretch for me, will you?”

Billy glowered upward and pried the switchblade from Yurio’s hand. Viktor’s heart stopped beating for a second, sure his cousin was about to be stabbed in front of him. Happily, instead of stabbing Yurio, Billy brought the knife to his own lips and cut the twine that had sewn his lips shut for centuries.

“Stuff it, you hag!” Billy yelled, in a croaky voice that somehow sounded like mothballs smell. Winnifred gasped and recoiled, hand pressed to her chest. “Trollop! Wench! She-devil!” He paused and smiled for a moment. “I’ve wanted to say that for years,” he said to Yurio, still clasped in his arms.

Yurio looked like he was trying not to hurl. “Great, now let me go if you’re not gonna help that hag murder me.”

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur. There was a lot of yelling. Mila and Chris suddenly had baseball bats. Viktor got into a bout of tug-of-war over a stick with Sarah, the blonde. And then suddenly Winnifred had Yurio and vial of smoking potion, hovering on her broom ten feet above the ground. Viktor released the stick and threw a stone at Winnifred – Yurio could survive a fall from that height. Except instead of Yurio she dropped the potion, which Viktor caught.

He stared at the potion in his hand, stunned. He was pretty sure what had just happened had defied, like, at least half of the laws of probability. (Viktor did not know what the laws of probability were – just that an open vial of smoking liquid shouldn’t be knocked out of someone’s hand and drop to land right side up in his hand, not a drop spilled.) The vial looked very breakable.

“Let him go or I’ll smash it.”

“Smash it and I’ll drop him,” Winnifred countered with a cruel smile.

 _It would seem we have reached an impasse_ , his mind quoted Princess Bride at him helpfully. If someone presents you with two options and they both suck, make a third option.

“Твоё здоровье,” Viktor said with an ironic grin, and drank the vial down. It tasted a little bit like licorice. “Well?” Winnifred and Yurio both stared down at him with mute rage.

“I could still drop him.”

Viktor smiled, gesturing with his open arms. “C’mon, Winnie, I’m making it easy for you.”

“No!” Yuuri and Mila had shouted in unison. Phichit and Chris were holding them back.

Winnifred took the bait, thankfully. She dove, tossing Yurio to the side when she was about six feet above the ground. He landed with an awkward roll. Viktor didn’t see much more than that. Winnifred had picked him up by the front of his sweatshirt. “You noble little fool.”

Viktor shrugged as much as he could while dangling in midair by a hoodie that was really not made to deal with this kind of stress. “Wouldn’t you? For your sisters.” He felt a weird peace come over him and was noticed that he was sort of… glowing? That was new.

Winnifred’s face twisted in an expression Viktor couldn’t read. “No matter, we are not so foolish as to be caught so easily.”

They’d been floating slowly upward during his exchange, but he couldn’t say how high they were. There was a yell and a sudden weight on one of his legs.

“Viktor, you dumbass,” Yurio cursed from beneath him as he dangled from one of Viktor’s ankles.

Winnifred looked more irritated than bothered. Apparently witchcraft came with some serious strength. She ignored the additional weight and started… aggressively inhaling at him. Some of his glow went away, into her lungs. It felt a bit like at the end of a brutal short program, when the exhaustion hit all at once. He was glad she was holding him up.

“Fuck!” Yurio yelled somewhere below as he and Viktor’s sneaker went tumbling to the ground. Elsewhere other people were shouting. Unfamiliar women’s voices – the other two witches – Mila’s voice, sharp and taunting, Chris laughing encouragement. That was good, his friends were good. Viktor felt so calm, even as the glow around him diminished and Winnifred kept inhaling. He could really use a nap right about now.

He wondered what would happen to him without a soul. Would he be a sociopath like in Supernatural? Lobotomized like he’d received a Dementor’s kiss? Or would he just die? The legends didn’t say. Viktor should have thought to ask.

Suddenly one of the witches was tumbling through the air, ass over broomstick, and collided into Winnifred. Winnifred was knocked off her broom and she and Viktor went crashing down to earth. That was fine, the earth was surprisingly soft. Dimly he saw Yuuri and Yurio rushing over to him. That was nice, he liked them both so much.

He didn’t fight as Winnifred marched over to him and picked up him by his poor sweatshirt again. The sun was starting to rise behind her, staining the sky a beautiful blood orange. It was shaping up be a beautiful sunrise – a shame he’d miss it.

Winnifred paused before she could start her inhaling. There was steam rising around them and a smell like frankincense in the air. She looked down to her feet and Viktor’s gaze followed, curious. The ground beneath her feet was smoking.

She snarled and shook him. He tried to shrug again, “Hallowed ground. I don’t make the rules.”

She screamed with rage. The shout was cut off with a guttural sound Viktor couldn’t replicate if he tried as she turned to stone. He wiggled loose from her stoney grasp and thudded to the ground with the sound of a tearing sweatshirt. He opened his dazed eyes in time to see Mary and Sarah Sanderson explode into clouds of glittery dust. Sarah seemed almost to greet it with a smile. Mary just looked like she was mid curse.

The statue that Winnifred had become exploded at his feet. He threw an arm belatedly over his eyes, blinking away the flash.

“That was a dumbass move,” Yurio was scowling above him, holding out a hand. Viktor accepted the hand up and thanked Yurio for his trouble with a hand ruffling his hair. Yurio cursed and swatted him away.

Mila collided into both of them and locked her arms around them in a painful hug. “You _assholes_.” She sounded like she was fighting back tears.

Viktor wiggled an arm free so he could pat her back. “Sorry, miliy.”

Another body thumped into the triad. “I can’t believe you didn’t drag me into this sooner. What the fuck, guys.” Chris purred, not sounding that put out, and managing to pat Viktor’s ass as he looped an arm around him.

“Group hug!” Phichit joined from between Mila and Yurio, so Viktor mostly got a slap on the back of the neck.

Viktor laughed and squeezed them all back, wondering how long this could last before –

Yurio broke out with a full aria of offended cat noises. The group chuckled and broke up.

Viktor took a step back, examining the damage done to his second favorite sweatshirt. He made eye contact with Yuuri instead. Yuuri was ghost white, biting his bottom lip so hard it had to hurt.

“Yuuri,” Viktor started, not sure how to go on.

For the third time that night, someone flung themselves bodily at Viktor for a hug. This time he was slightly more prepared. Yuuri’s arms made a circle low around Viktor’s waist. Viktor wrapped an arm around his shoulder and let his other hand get tangled up in Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri pressed his face to Viktor’s shoulder and let out a shuddering breath. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Viktor kissed the top of his head absently. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

* * *

The town didn’t talk about it afterward. A good portion of the adult population had been in the community center and fallen portion to Winnifred’s curse. They either didn’t remember or didn’t want to talk about it, going back to business as usual the next day.

The school fixed the kiln, which looked as if a bomb had gone off inside of it - the door bowed outward and half off the hinges - but didn’t ask about how the damage had been incurred. Yakov hired workmen to fix the patio doors, and again, didn’t ask. If he remembered the conversation at the community center, before the curse had been cast, he said nothing.

Sometimes Viktor could almost believe the entire thing had been a dream. Except when he’d bike by the old Sanderson museum, he could see that no one had fixed the damage done there.

And he and Yuuri were dating now, which didn’t stop Yuuri from giving him shit in history.

Salem was growing on him.

**Author's Note:**

> Untransliterated Russian:  
> -Котёнок - 'kitten'  
> -Твоё здоровье - 'to your health', informal
> 
> 1\. I know in the movie Allison only talks about All Hallow's Eve and not Samhain, but whatever.
> 
> 2\. The only one of the skaters Yakov is actually related to (in this fic) is Mila because I am very amused by the idea of young Yakov with bright red hair. There was a lot of angsty backstory that didn't fit in well to this story.
> 
> 3\. I have no idea if Mila's name is canonically short for Lyudmila.
> 
> 4\. This fic needs 5000% more Phichit Chulanont and I am sorry, I'll do better next time.
> 
> Self-edited only, so please tell me if I missed anything! Hope you enjoyed!


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